


i could have been anyone (anyone else)

by heartily



Category: Dimension 20 (Web Series), Dimension 20 - A Crown of Candy
Genre: Angst with a sad ending, But also, F/F, Heavy Angst, citrina character study, cws in notes!, five parts and a very very short requiem, hints of calmethar because i cant stop myself, in no way shape or form forgiving the villains here! they are bad people! horrible!, like. yeah u know how acoc goes u know this is a tragedy, sweet religion, there's also parts that show belizabeth's perspective, very. very heavy w/ sweet religion
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2021-01-01
Updated: 2021-01-01
Packaged: 2021-03-10 21:27:13
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence, Major Character Death
Chapters: 1
Words: 15,008
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/28473900
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/heartily/pseuds/heartily
Summary: "a flower blooms so beautifully. but without its roots, as beautiful as it may be in your hand, it shall die in a mere few days time."-sweet smelling soot. charred edges of the trails, burning. citrina couldn’t stop running, even when the hot chocolate burned her feet and the ash in the hair stung her eyes with hot and heavy tears. her breath was short and erratic, and she felt herself lose grip with reality as her mind numbed and her legs kept going. the last words of last night burned in her memory.“and how far will you go, citrina, for a family that disgraces the name of the One who shines before us?”
Relationships: Belizabeth Brassica/Citrina Rocks
Comments: 1
Kudos: 9
Collections: Dimension 20 Big Bang





	i could have been anyone (anyone else)

**Author's Note:**

> do not mind me and how late this is. but! on the very last day and the very last minute i am finally uploading my d20bigbang fic!
> 
> this fic is my complete and utter baby! and i couldn't have finished it without the help of my lovely friends. @ bedrock bros and calrot nation i love you guys so so much!
> 
> here are the cws for this fic.
> 
> -
> 
> CWs: depictions of violence and war, blood mentions, murder and death, abusive relationships, manipulation, alcohol

**part i.** **_roots_ ** **.**

_01 meeting_

“sapph, hold on!”

citrina’s voice echoed throughout the overwhelmingly large hallways of the castle, tripping over her footsteps as she stumbled towards her younger sister in an attempt to catch up to her. sapphria’s laughter sounded like tinkling bells and gentle chimes, and citrina couldn’t help but smile despite the cacophony of fear and frustration bubbling in her chest. it wasn’t as if she had the opportunity to say no, what with rococoa’s rigorous training at the other end of the castle and lazuli losing herself in the royal library a countless amount of times. and amethar, was still far too young for their time together to be more than playing with the toys in his room.

“slowpoke!” sapphria laughed out, reaching up on her tippy toes to open the side exit of the castle. despite how ruthless she may be, sapphria’s still tiny. it’s quite funny, just watching her struggle to open the doors. citrina slowed her pace, giggling at sapphria’s puffed cheeks.

“shorty,” citrina teased, poking sapphria’s forehead to move her away from the door as she reached up with ease to grab onto the door handle.

sapphria crossed her arms. “no fair! you’re this many,” she said, holding up ten fingers and lifting up a foot, stumbling slightly in a cute attempt to represent fifteen.

citrina shook her head, putting a finger down. “only that many, dummy. now let’s go! mom said dinner time’s soon!”

citrina wasn’t a troublemaker. really. she was studious and held the bulb close to her heart, valuing it over most things. she did her duties as a princess of candia and took care of her younger siblings as the sister who has more time on her hands. but the castle was so, _so_ stuffy sometimes, and sapphria was far too energetic to say no to, so of course, as the sister with more time on her hands, the two snuck out when the warm and comfortable light peering through the windows had made the castle guards feel drowsier than normal. besides, what good is a kingdom if you never see it for your own eyes?

the two laughed together, stumbling out of the castle doors as they breathed in the sweet scent of the outdoors. the bulb shone brightly above them, and citrina smiled, sighing gently. she always felt stronger when she’s outside, watching the bulb’s glow. their mom had always told them that they all had a role to play. for the others, they’re still figuring out what it was they wanted to do. citrina … citrina’s always loved the bulb. it was never something that she had questioned. the moment her eyes fell on the brilliant glow of the bulb, it was as if it had spoken to her, sweetly, calling her name, beckoning her to come closer. and, for a light so brilliantly beautiful, how could citrina say no?

sapphria watched with a goofy open mouth as citrina glowed slightly with her eyes closed. the shimmer died down as fast as it appeared, and sapphria couldn’t tell if citrina knew that happened, but it was there. and it was so beautiful.

“sis …” sapphria grinned goofily. “you’re like a glowstick!”

citrina raised a brow. “what?”

“you were glowing! just now!” sapphria leapt on her toes, tugging citrina’s hand as she chattered excitedly. “do you think you can do the magic thing? that’s so _cool_!”

citrina laughed, relaxing her shoulders. what sapphria said was new, but expected. it had always felt right for citrina to take her rightful place as the carrier of the bulb’s light. she just never knew it would manifest magically.

rococoa and lazuli … they were the best older sisters citrina could’ve asked for, but they were always busy. rococoa, being the oldest, of course had to always stay inside, and lazuli couldn’t even be _convinced_ to stop her studies unless she had to eat. inside the castle walls, citrina always felt … confined. shut out. but with sapphria next to her, gripping onto her hand and begging to explore the city with her, citrina felt so sure. so … happy. something about being around the townsfolk with her sister and exploring the lands that she had only been reading about for as long as she can remember had been one of the few things keeping citrina sane.

the two laughed aloud and jumped around playfully as they ran down the streets of dulcington, surrounded by the sugary winds blowing against their skin. the townsfolk easily parted for the two princesses, nodding their heads and continuing on with their tasks as if this was a normal occurrence. candia was safe, and while they were still young, they could never be hurt in the walls of their kingdom.

citrina found herself closing her eyes as she skipped through the chocolate cobblestone, barely registering the fact that there was someone in front of her until she crashed into them, hard.

citrina grunted and fell on her back, wincing as a throbbing pain erupted in her left temple. “oops,” she groaned.

she heard a gasp from somewhere near and felt the presence of two people immediately by her side.

“i’m so … so sorry!”

citrina mumbled out a response, ready to apologize herself, when she opened her eyes.

hovering over her was a young girl, maybe only a little older than her. her skin was bright green, and her hair was dark, a thick handful of curls that fell over her deep green eyes. she wore a beautiful dress woven from the finest greeneries, and she held herself with a sort of elegance that one did not normally find in people. definitely not candian. but --

“-- pretty,” citrina mumbled, eyes half open.

the person who citrina could only assume was sapphria snorted, laughing into her hand. the waves of pain crashing over citrina’s eyebrow disappeared as a deep colour washed over her face, blushing furiously. of _course_ she had to embarrass herself in front of a foreigner. of course.

“i -- your dress! it’s beautiful,” citrina stammered quickly, sitting up a little too fast and feeling another wave of pain. “ow. ah. hmm. hello.”

the girl must have noticed the circlet hung around citrina’s waist. she smiled, bowed gracefully with the posture of a royal, and spoke in a melodic accent, “it is nothing to worry about, your highness. receiving a compliment from the royal princess of candia is nothing that i wish to give back.”

citrina balked. the girl who, from what citrina could tell, was only slightly older than her, spoke with such ease. she rivaled lazuli’s poise and eloquence, sapphria’s charm, and rococoa’s diplomacy, and citrina could easily spot these details with only a few exchanges.

“ahem,” citrina smiled back, still just as flustered. she stood, brushing off a few crumbs from her dress. “i thank you for such … um, kind words, too. i’m princess citrina. oh, i guess you knew that. um. ah.”

the corners of the girls lips curled upwards in a playful grin. “i did, yes.”

“well, good, good.” citrina nodded, shuffling awkwardly on her feet. “that’s good. that you know me. um. and my sister, i guess. _sapph._ ”

citrina angrily whispered her sister’s name, beckoning her to stand by her side. sapphria’s grin was still very prominent despite her attempts to stifle her laughter. citrina flicked the side of her forearm.

as sapphria straightened up, rubbing her elbow, the girl nodded and turned her attention towards her. “princess sapphria rocks, it is a pleasure to meet you.”

the girl took sapphria’s hand and kissed her knuckles softly. she straightened, curtsied, and as citrina was thinking about _her_ hand not being kissed, the girl turned towards her and smiled. “and the lady princess citrina, it is ever so lovely to meet you after hearing all about you.”

the girl’s hand was warm and smooth to the touch, and she held citrina’s hand so delicately as if she was merely a fragile beauty. her lips touched the skin on the back of her hand, and citrina couldn’t help but flush once more.

“the pleasure is all mine,” citrina’s eyes softened.

the girl curtsied once more. “lady belizabeth brassica. i apologize for running into you, your highness, but your speed was far too inappropriate for the busy roads of dulcington. excuse my judgement.”

“if you say so,” citrina smiled challengingly, “and what brings you here, lady belizabeth? forgive me for assuming, but vegetania’s quite a way from here.”

“diplomatic business,” she smiled back, and citrina couldn’t help but lean in. “my father is a devout member of the bulbian church. a miracle worker. and he was sent here to meet the new bulbian cleric, for word has gotten out that the bulb above has chosen its new connection to the world.” and her words feel pointed, directed towards her.

citrina’s eyes brightened. “oh! wonderful. may the chosen of the bulb’s path be a path of peace and good deeds.”

belizabeth’s brows shot up in surprise. she tilts her head to the side, a lopsided smile making her way onto her face, and she simply nods. “yes … may … _her_ path be one of peace indeed.”

citrina furrowed her brows. “uh. yeah.”

belizabeth frowned, as if to question what it was citrina knew. or, at least, didn’t know. but all citrina could do was stare back, watching the way her deep green brows knitted together in a beautiful arch.

“please,” sapphria grumbled, and citrina could tell on her face that she was exhausted having to listen to this conversation. “it was lovely meeting you, lady brassica, but my sister and i most definitely should head back.”

“ah,” belizabeth nodded, smiling in understanding, still with the hint of confusion tinted in her brows. “i mustn't let you stay out for too long. thank you for having the pleasure of meeting me, your highnesses. i do wish to see you both again.”

and belizabeth’s hand gently touched citrina’s shoulder, as if she spoke those words only to her, as if her words were somehow a wish that would come true sooner than she had expected. and the bulb forbid that citrina ever wish for something so selfish as to take this girl’s attention from those around her and keep it for herself, so she shook the feeling off and nodded kindly at her touch.

“i shall take my leave. let’s hope that the bulb allows us more meetings in the future.” the words left citrina’s mouth in the barest bones of a whisper, like the wind had carried it and woven into it words beneath the words, implications that hold subtle differences in the tone and the lack thereof.

it isn’t love. it couldn’t be, for she had only met the girl mere moments ago.

when citrina closed her eyes, took sapphria’s hand as they walked the path back up to the castle, breathed in the sweet wind - only then did she acknowledge the sliver of hope blossoming in her chest.

* * *

warm, sweet air fades into stuffy huffs of breath as the castle doors close. the guards look apologetic as the two sisters enter the main hall. sharp, surefooted heels clicked against the marble floor, and citrina winced and tightened her grip on sapphria’s hand as she braced herself for what’s about to come.

“ _princesses_.” the voice of their mother, queen pamelia, reverberated around the room, and she stood regally with a livid look, guards flanking her side. rococoa, amethar and lazuli were behind her, looking guilty. citrina sighed understandingly. it wasn’t as if she expected that they would be able to keep quiet for long.

citrina lifted her head, plastering her most soft-spoken and kind expression. “hello mother,” she smiled, curtsying, and doing her best to flick sapphria in the arm as discreetly as possible to do the same without making it look obvious. sapphria stumbled and curtsied hurriedly, grinning wide.

“hey, ma!” she winked.

their mother placed two slender fingers on the middle of her forehead, rubbing at her head and looking down with a sigh. when she looked up, her eyes were softer, but they still held the same look of anger. “sapphria, as the youngest princess of your sisters, you must look to your other older siblings and _try_ to reflect the poise and elegance that they hold. i’ve been told you snuck out of your studies _again_.”

sapphria grumbled something incoherent under her breath, but she did look a little afraid and remorseful. she hung her head down, nodding carefully. “yes, mother.”

“and citrina,” pamelia’s voice was sharper, her eyes like daggers as she turned to face her. “objectively, your duties are always completed at the appropriate time, you excel in most of the studies that you’re meant to take, and you are loved amongst our people. you are by far the most disciplined of your siblings.”

citrina bit her lip. “thank you, mother -”

“ _so WHY,”_ she took a step forward, “are you _encouraging_ one of your younger siblings to leave the _safety_ of this castle and be surrounded by _commonfolk_ who could easily take advantage of you two, unarmed princesses that know next to nothing about how the outside world _works_?”

tears stung citrina’s eyes, but she took a breath, wincing at every word. she lifted her head, remorseful but regal. “i apologize, mother. you are correct, and it was fully my mistake. sapphria did nothing wrong, so please -”

“please?” their mother took another step. “you think this conversation has an option to _bargain_ ? there will be no _please_ s or _i ask of you_ s, citrina. you and sapphria are _grounded._ there will be no arguing.”

the room was silent. citrina couldn’t tell if she was holding onto sapphria’s hand tighter or if sapphria was the one squeezing. nevertheless, she squeezed a little more.

“now.” pamelia spoke, softer this time, after a few moments of silence passed. “please get out of your dirty clothes and get ready for the dinner tonight. we have a guest staying over to recognize _you_ , citrina, as an official member of the bulbian church. i expect you to be on your best behaviour.”

citrina nodded, barely registering the words that left her mother’s mouth. a small gasp came from citrina’s side, and she could feel sapphria’s eyes boring into her soul. but citrina could hardly process anything right now.

her mother was right. had her encounter with belizabeth not occurred, the two would have continued exploring the town of dulcington, wandering carelessly around with no fear as they wore the circlets and held their titles with pride. anything could have happened to citrina and she wouldn’t have cared so much, but if she were to be responsible for any harm done to her younger sister, she would have never forgiven herself.

“yes, mother,” citrina spoke after seconds of silence, lifting her head with a neutral yet regal expression. she couldn’t let her emotions get the better of her.

pamelia nodded curtly, lifting a hand to reach out to a loose lock of blonde hair adorning citrina’s features. she tucked it neatly behind her ear, brushing citrina’s cheek ever so gently with her thumb. “you’ve come to the age in which your duties are now no longer learning about the history of our people and our kingdom. you’ve been chosen, citrina. focus is key. this is what you’ve always wanted.”

citrina sighed, leaning towards her mother’s thumb. affection was so, so sparse in this home.

“thank you, mother.” citrina smiled, and she hardly looked towards the rest of her sisters’ faces as she walked with purpose to her chambers. _this is what i’ve always wanted._

the thought danced around in citrina’s mind, and she sighed with contentedness as she remembers the feeling of the warm light of the bulb on her skin, knowing that this was what she was meant to do.

_02 do-overs_

the circlet felt heavy on citrina’s head as she stood, regally unmoving. the tight-fitting light blue dress felt foreign compared to the loose robes that she wears with pride, a sash tied around her waist to keep her circlet from abandoning her side. these fabrics she wore felt stiff, felt unlike her. succulent lace wraps delicately around her wrists and neck, and the sleeves are a beautiful sky blue tone that livens up her yellow skin. a corset is fitted tightly around her stomach, much too much for a poor fourteen year old girl, and she can hardly breathe. her hair, brilliant blonde, shone with the candy pearls weaved throughout strands, in tight curls that framed her face so gently. it was loose, with a crown braid that was placed upon her head like a wreath of leaves adorning the gods and goddesses above.

she was beautiful. it felt odd.

her other sisters were dressed nicely, but not as extravagant as her. citrina’s handmaiden had told her it was out of respect for the clergy that’ll be officially recognizing citrina’s place as a high ranking member of the church, an image of purity that they wish to behold prior to making her title true.

which was, to be frank, off-putting. but citrina couldn’t really understand what it was that made her wince at the words.

as she made her way towards the presenting hall, her mother caught her eye. she smiled brightly, eyeing citrina’s beautiful dress with glee.

“by the bulb above,” she breathed out. “you look beautiful. oh … my baby.”

pamelia stood with a bright, soft smile, and had they not been in the presence of guards and servants, citrina would’ve had a second thought on whether her mother would hug her. but her mother had always believed in the idea of showing vulnerability as a sign of entrusting those around you, and she would never utter a word that showed any level of respect high enough to be seen as equal to those that serve the crown.

another sour taste left in the back of her mouth.

“thank you, mother,” citrina smiled, curtsying slightly with a small bow. the fabric itches, and her shoes are a size too big for her to be able to walk around without a limp. had citrina been given the time to ponder on this for a moment longer, she would have asked for a different pair. but the doors were being opened and the trumpets were being sound and figures were approaching the throne of the crown of candia, so there wasn’t much for her to do.

a herald stepped forward - meek and shy-looking, a small green bean with eyes that flit too fast for them to be seen as collected. “presenting the pontifex william brassica of the beautiful vegetanian lands of brightgarden, heirophant rex of the bulbian church, and his heirophant rex’s daughter, the lady belizabeth brassica, healer of the bulb.”

emotions flash across citrina’s mind before she can fully grasp a decent understanding of the words that left the mouth of the herald. there stood a tall man with a deep green suit, lapels adorned with golden symbols of the bulb along with a long, white cape that pooled around his feet. his hair was bright green and coiled, and the expression on his face was a neutral sternness that citrina’s been too familiar of in her own family. and to his side was a girl with the same dark green locks, the same beautiful dress woven from beautiful greenery, the same elegance that she held both in the way she stood and the way she stared.

belizabeth smiled kindly at her despite the open-mouthed expression on citrina’s face. there was a playful glint in her eyes, and citrina immediately knew that she knew. and she was mortified.

if the queen pamelia had known that citrina and sapphria had literally ran into the daughter of the bulbian church’s hierophant rex and made utter fools of themselves, citrina would never find herself outside of the walls of the castle for months.

despite everything, and despite the audible cough from citrina’s side that she could easily tell was sapphria, citrina smiled back.

the pontifex walks with the same elegance and poise that belizabeth holds in her form, the same neutral smile that serves to ensure comfort and approachability. as they walk closer, citrina sees their eyes.

and god, that’s the one thing that’s so, so different.

citrina doesn’t fully know why just yet (she watches with a gaze) and she doesn’t know if she ever will understand (and it makes her heart leap unlike other eyes she’s seen) but maybe sometimes it’s best to leave mysteries behind and allow indulgence in (she does).

and citrina doesn’t fully realize, but she’s taking steps forward, too, and belizabeth is smiling while her father is congratulating her for something that she truly cannot hear, and all it took was a misstep, a small falter, and she stumbles in her heels, fully crashing into the arms of the daughter of the pontifex.

she heard sapphria wince verbally first, sucking air in through her teeth. and then she heard belizabeth.

“we need to stop meeting like this,” belizabeth breathed out. citrina felt a stinging pain in her right leg after having twisted her foot, but she can’t pay attention as belizabeth’s eyes stare so deeply into her own.

citrina laughed, mortified. “yeah, we do.”

the two stood there, watching each other, smiling, until they weren’t, and they were clearing their throats and standing at a distance that’s far too noticeable. but nobody says anything other than a pointed stare from her mother (whom she knows will give yet another speech about elegance and poise once the castle doors were closed again), and they converse, discussing citrina’s future and what her role will be both in the church and in candia. they talked, and so did citrina, but her mind was in a different place as she watched the night sky from the stained windows of the castle. the two parties exchange neutral nods and careful smiles, and the queen offers the chance to stay at dinner to discuss even more, and citrina weaved her way out to an empty space in the castle with light footing that sapphria had taught her to do despite the slight limp of her leg.

she breathed.

citrina leaned against the wall of the hallway outside the throne room, closing her eyes as she tried her hardest to make sense of everything. truly, this was what she wanted - ever since she was young she was always a devout bulbian, digesting the stories and tomes of the church with such eagerness that her parents immediately knew what it was she’ll be doing in the future. when young sapphria scraped her knee and pretended it hadn’t hurt for a full day, citrina placed her hand lovingly on the wound, whispering sweet words to sapphria’s sniffly face. and when she removed her hand, the wound was gone. that’s when her parents were certain.

but something felt off. maybe it was the sudden change. maybe it was the idea of being discussed like a gift meant to be given and exchanged by others. maybe it was the fear that she must turn the thing she loves most into a job rather than a passion. but her heart was hurting and pounding loudly in her ears and she hadn’t heard footsteps approaching from beside her.

“your highness?”

citrina jumped, feeling her heart leap out from her chest as she let out a small squeak, a mouth to her lips. she turned with high alert, spinning around to see the kind-eyed vegetanian. the look in belizabeth’s eyes suggests she was startled, too, and citrina can’t help but giggle out a sigh of relief upon realizing that it was just her. “oh my, lady brassica, you frightened me.”

“i see that,” belizabeth’s brow rose, hesitantly stepping forward. “my apologies, your highness, but when you had disappeared from the dining chambers without so much as a warning i figured it would be in my best interest to come searching for you.”

citrina tilted her head, confused. belizabeth’s eyes widened.

“not that i think i had the right to, of course, my lady. i apologize. that must have been out of line.”

citrina shook her head. “no, no. it’s alright. i didn’t think you cared enough to do so, and that was quite kind of you. thank you.”

she smiled. citrina couldn’t help but smile back, even if she didn’t want to.

“of course, your highness.” belizabeth nodded. she bowed her head, sighing, and made her way over to the wall beside her, leaning next to citrina. the gesture was small, one that many would simply gloss over, but citrina found it comforting - a kind nod towards their small, unspoken understanding of this overwhelming experience. it was nice to know that belizabeth understood, for citrina hardly did understand what was going on inside her own head. it was … more than confusing, being given the thing you desire the most yet having this feeling of uncertainty and fear, feeling this doubt that you try to cast out of others seeping into your own chest like a cobra wrapping its body around its prey, feeding off of its horror and panic and unease. the feeling of doubt was so heavily wrong that it physically pained citrina, and she can’t help but wince, shutting her eyes tight as she attempted to settle her breathing. citrina felt belizabeth’s eyes on her once more, and her chest constricted tighter, the pain rising from her chest to her neck, knowing that somebody was watching her. she felt like drowning in her own mind, her throat aching as though she had screamed in pain for hours, yet no noise has left her head since her last words with the girl beside her. the pain was awful, even more awful than most pains in the world, since she cannot pinpoint where it came from.

“your highness.”

belizabeth’s voice was like a lighthouse in the stormy ocean of citrina’s thoughts, pulling her out of the chaos and the darkness and leading her back onto solid ground. she gasped, eyes widening from the adrenaline of the panic that settled too deep in her chest, and she let go of the fist she had subconsciously made that had balled up the fabric of her dress.

a breath. another. one more.

she smiled. “i am so sorry, lady brassica. that was highly inappropriate of me. i shall take my leave and get some fresh air.”

citrina pushed herself off the wall, nodding kindly towards her. “do tell my mother that i won’t be gone long.”

and she started walking, but a hand reached for her wrist before she could move farther away. she couldn’t stop the gasp escaping her lips as she turned back to look at belizabeth eyeing her carefully.

belizabeth’s grip loosened as the shock of her action came down upon her. “your highness, i’m sorry. i just … worry if i let you go off to the outdoors alone at this state.”

“at what state?” citrina asked indignantly.

belizabeth smiled a gentle smile, one that doesn’t seem to reach her eyes. citrina’s never seen her smile bright yet. “well, you look as though you’re about to cry at any moment. if i may, i ask to accompany you outside.”

the two stared at each other in the quiet hallway of the castle, with deep purple and green eyes locked against the other in a silent conversation. they were a few feet apart, and citrina had to lean closely to hear belizabeth breathing, yet the warmth she radiated seemed to hum a frequency that belizabeth can hear so clearly.

“please.” belizabeth tried another smile, one that’s slightly more solemn, more melancholic, more familiar. citrina couldn’t place its familiarity.

another look shared.

“okay.”

  
  


**part ii.** **_sprouts._ **

_03 memory lane_

**(four years later)**

“good afternoon, your highness,” a servant curtsies, her light hair falling in front of her face as she bows deeply with a smile.

citrina smiles back with a kind gaze, one that radiates the bulb’s warmth, nodding towards her. “good afternoon.”

as citrina walks down the long hallway from the library after a rigorous morning of studying, she echoed more of these greetings with a lightness in her chest from all the attention. normally, she would shy away from the eyes on her, but she can’t help but feel excited what with everything going on.

today’s her eighteenth saint’s day.

she nearly skips with glee at the mere thought of it. walking past the ballroom, she catches a glimpse of the marvelous decorations that are scattered around the floor, servants rushing to hang any last minute pieces, breathes in the warm and sweet scent of the nearly intimidating buffet that reaches from one end of the room to the other. she sees her mother walking around the area, berating the poor looking chef holding out a plate of what looks to be roasted duck in a cranberry glaze. she sees rococoa reach for a stray piece of meat on the tray and grab it swiftly, laughing as their mother try to chase her out of the ballroom. she sees her mother pause in the chase to smile, a subtle curl of her lip that most people tend to miss. she sees her father laughing gleefully in the corner. and she can’t help but smile, too.

rococoa jumps out of the ballroom, nearly crashing into citrina with a laugh. “hey, birthday girl!”

“rococoa,” citrina teases, “are you … stealing my birthday food?”

“who, me?” she feigns a gasp, placing her hand on her heart with mock offence. “your dearest, favourite sister?”

“you are _not_ my favourite sister,” citrina laughs, crossing her arms in defence.

rococoa simply shakes her head, walking away as she takes the last bite of the roasted duck in her hand. “it’s sad watching you be in denial. get better.”

“you’re not allowed to be mean to me --” citrina starts, unable to finish with the giggles stuck in her chest. she smacks rococoa’s arm lightly as her older sister laughs.

“love, when you’re done, come to laz’s room! she wants to do your hair for tonight.” rococoa says as she walks off, and citrina nods excitedly, wondering what lazuli has planned. but before she could go anywhere, a hand wraps around her own and brings her into a dark, hidden corner, and another hand clamps over her mouth before she could scream for help.

“by the bulb, it’s just me, loser,” sapphria’s voice whispers in citrina’s ear, and it took all of citrina’s willpower not to turn around and smack her younger sister upside the head.

“you scared me, sapph!” citrina huffs, crossing her arms as soon as sapphria lets her go.

sapphria laughs, leaning against the wall. “i could see that. so. happy birthday!”

“you brought me here just to say happy birthday?” citrina frowns. “you’re like … the second deepest sleeper aside from amethar. you know that you’re never gonna be the first to greet me no matter how hard you try.”

sapphria raises a brow, looking at citrina pointedly. “if that’s the birthday girl’s attitude, then i dunno if i want to share the news i just found out for you.”

citrina looks at her worryingly. “is it bad?”

“it’s good, actually.”

“wh --” citrina pauses. “then tell me!”

“no.”

“sapph.”

“rina.”

“ _sapph._ ”

sapphria just smiles.

“please?” no response.

“pleaseee?”

sapphria sighs, tilting her neck back as a show of annoyance. citrina can’t help but smile at how much her younger sister has grown. “jeez, you just won’t give up. well.” and she grins, dropping the irritated facade. “i was doing a little snooping around, listening in on the gossip, watching the carriages, as you do --”

“-- you know mom’s told you to stop that, like, five times already.”

sapphria waves her off dismissively. “yeah, yeah. whatever. anyways. guess who _just_ arrived at the castle right before i was going to head inside. guess. guess.”

“sapph, how am i going to --”

“oh, please, rina!” sapphria huffs. “you know.”

citrina eyes her with a look of suspicion. then, a beat. another. she blinks, and citrina turns her head towards the small gap that leads them back to the hallways, then faces sapphria again, with her mouth slightly agape and her cheeks tinted darker in anticipation. she had sent the invite, written it personally with her own seal and signature (the other invitations were mere copies with candia’s official insignia), knowing full well that the last letter she’s sent had been over a month ago and it was to let citrina know that her father was growing ill and that she was to take over many responsibilities for brightgarden as well as the church. citrina last wrote to her three weeks ago, and it had only taken her so long to respond because how was she supposed to write back when all she wanted to do was ask her to forget about her duties for a while?

she signed off her letter -- it was brief, fleeting, an apology, and a wish to see her again. it almost felt like a goodbye. which isn’t necessarily something so troubling, considering how little they had seen the other over the four years they’ve known one another. and yet, her heart ached. and she had sent the invitation out, regardless.

“how did she find time?” were the only words that citrina could manage at the moment. sapphria just smiles, and it wasn’t a typical teasing smirk that often adorns her sister’s face. it was gentle, soft, encouraging.

“well, why don’t you ask her?”

citrina stares at her hands, unmoving, hesitant, _hopeful_ yet she won’t admit it. for the past four years when she had been deemed to be a representative of the church for candia, when she had been chosen by the bulb to harness its power and share it with the world she loved so so deeply, life had been a moving train with no stops or pauses -- just a moving window with landscapes that change far too quickly for her to be able to understand. and, well, belizabeth was something along the lines of an anchor. when the world spun too fast, she was gravity, and kept her grounded. kept her sane.

belizabeth was the one who had attended every training session involving citrina, and although it was recommended for the pontifex’s unofficial next-in-line to shadow their work, citrina would always catch belizabeth eyeing her, smiling when she’s done something right, giving her small nods of approval that are subtle enough for the crowd not to notice but obvious enough that citrina can spot the movement easily. and, well, citrina’s eyes are almost always on belizabeth, so it wasn’t as if it was difficult.

citrina remembers all those days they spent in the meadows of brightgarden, when citrina had been told to be indoctrinated into the bulbian church and had needed to get away from the suffocating crowds of people with endless books and statements and responsibilities. she remembers how belizabeth had found her every time, and how they never said a word, but citrina harnessed a ball of light in the palms of her hands and belizabeth placed a gentle hand on her shoulder that lit citrina’s entire body on fire, and they walked back together, a brighter, more genuine smile on citrina’s face because belizabeth had somehow managed to remind her of all the good that she can do in the world without uttering a sound. she remembers the letters they’d write to one another when they were both far away, back and forth conversations that took weeks to arrive but they had wrote to the other anyways because the letters were always worth the wait. she remembers the times they would walk together side by side, and how every year belizabeth had turned down invitations to celebrate candian holidays with citrina, how every year belizabeth had always been unavailable during her saint’s day, and how every year, the last day they had seen each other prior to citrina’s saint’s day, she’d take her to the meadows and spend the afternoon searching for a four leaf clover to give to citrina. _maybe next year,_ she’d say.

she remembers so, so much. and a small voice in her head tells her that these moments aren’t particularly special, and that they were nothing more than friends. and maybe the voice in her head is right.

but it was so easy to lose herself in indulgence, and for once, she allowed herself to enjoy belizabeth’s attention.

citrina smiles, glittering eyes that couldn’t stop sapphria’s grin from coming out. “maybe i will.”

* * *

belizabeth cannot help but curse herself inwardly for feeling so excited over a visit that’s meant to be amiable and politically beneficial at best. her father had told her to be wary of the candians during her visit, and she remembers the way he instructed her whilst lying down in his chambers, too bedridden to attend citrina’s saints day alongside the young girl.

( _“be careful with them, belizabeth.” he had told her, bringing a handkerchief to his face as he coughed. his illness was getting worse. “the candians are the bulbian church’s most wary ally. they’re far too open about the practices they encourage in their land. their only hope in reassuring the public of their faith is that little princess you speak to, belizabeth. when you attend her birthday, try to talk to as many political figures as you can. convince them to uphold the church’s name. i don’t trust that archmage of theirs.”_

_belizabeth sighed. she’s heard this multiple times, weeks before the invitation had even arrived. her mind almost wanders off to citrina, wondering whether she should bring the gift she had prepared or not. she doesn’t think too much about it._ focus _, she told herself. “yes, father. my ties to the healer princess of candia will surely strengthen the bond between candia and vegetania.”_

_her father rose a brow at the way belizabeth hesitated with the word_ ties _. “ … right. well. this is not a vacation, belizabeth. you’re a smart girl. use that princess.”_

_the way he speaks of citrina brings an unsettling feeling in belizabeth’s stomach. “alright, father.”_

_“i mean it.” his voice hardened. “do what you can to ensure our allyship. i do not care what it is you do, so long as you do it discreetly.”)_

the memory rises before belizabeth is able to shut her eyes and press it further into her mind, and her mouth goes dry at the words her father had said. _do what you can to ensure our allyship,_ he had said, and if belizabeth played her cards right, she’d lead the healer princess of candia straight into her arms.

belizabeth holds back a sigh. she _knows_ of the princess’s budding feelings towards her, and she doesn’t necessarily want to stop it. but it’s the easiest and most efficient way for her to get close to candia’s walls, and what is love if not advantageous to her own goals?

something inside of her stirs. it wasn’t as if she wanted to reject citrina’s romantic actions. there was _something_ about her that had caused belizabeth’s mind to endlessly think about her for weeks on end. belizabeth did not love her whatsoever. but she wanted her. and that might just be enough to convince her.

she moves effortlessly along the roads of candia, having familiarized herself with the land after many times spent with princess citrina, visiting her often with the excuse of political business. and she turns a corner, where the entrance to the royal gardens lie ahead, clutching tightly on the invitation and the small box that she tied up neatly herself.

even if want wasn’t enough, it was well worth a try.

* * *

the gardens is citrina’s favourite place to be whenever she needs to take a breather.

flowers of all the shades and colours dot the endless rolling hills that go beyond the castle walls, and within them lay large, healthy bushes and trees of all types that decorate small plots of land that stand between fountains and benches. small lemondrop birds are perched atop the tree nearest to the entrance, and she can’t help but smile so brightly as they sing a melodic song.

in the gardens, citrina’s memorized every nook and cranny. she’d taken the time out of her day to help every year with the arrangements of the different plants with the royal gardeners and assisted her mother in choosing the different statues and styles for the bonsai dotted around the area. so when she spots a familiar, yet out-of-place figure standing by the fountain in the centre, she can’t help but wonder who.

“hello?” citrina calls out. the figure turns around, and citrina couldn’t have prepared herself for this.

the lady belizabeth brassica eyes her with a gentle smile adorning her features, holding a small box in her hands. she’s dressed in a long, springtime lime dress that have little flowers dotting the fabric around her figure, and her hair is tied back with bright red flowers weaved into her curls. “hello, princess -- oof!”

citrina runs to her arms, squealing as she reaches over to hug her. “belizabeth! you came!”

“of course i did,” belizabeth laughs, short yet sweet. “i promised you one day, didn’t i?”

“how did you find the time?” citrina grins, looking up at her as she pulls herself slightly back from the hug, her arms still wrapped around belizabeth’s figure. it’s not the greeting they’re the most used to, but it’s the type of greeting that they both cherished the most. and nobody else was around, which made citrina drop all of her guard and run straight to the person she had been waiting for the entire day.

belizabeth only smiles, though there’s a faraway look in her eyes and a hesitant breath that she seems to be holding back, and citrina would’ve caught those had she not been too overly happy at the sight of her. “i convinced my father. oh! i nearly forgot.”

she pulls back from the hug with citrina’s resistance, and holds up the box that she had in her hands. “i did not want this to get lost in the … sea of presents you had in the main hall. i was hoping to find you so i can give this personally.”

“what’s this?” citrina raises a brow, reaching forward to take the small, wrapped present that belizabeth holds out with a sort of foreign shyness in her movement, and her cheeks seem darker. the box was small, yet neatly wrapped, with a colourful sugarfloss bow tied cutely and a tag hung on it that says one word - _princess_.

when citrina looks up, with her own face turning a bright colour, belizabeth is smiling slightly. “happy birthday, your highness.”

“you …” citrina breathes out. “you came to the palace just to give me a present?”

belizabeth shrugs, and if citrina was not so lost in the moment she would have noticed belizabeth’s flitting eyes, her hesitant breath before answering. “it’s common courtesy for a lady to offer a friend a present on her saint’s day, your highness - oh!”

citrina squeals, wrapping her arms tightly around the older girl’s shoulders, reaching up on her toes to hold her tightly. “belizabeth … thank you.”

“you,” belizabeth starts, breathless from being squeezed so tightly. “you sound so happy, your highness. don’t you have other friends in candia and in other places that give you gifts, too?”

and citrina thinks back to the massive pile of presents that only rise in number back in the palace, from various nobles and acquaintances she’s met over the years, from her family, distant or otherwise, from friends she speaks to through letters written with the sweetest words. sure, their presents make her feel loved, seen, cared for. and she’s thankful for them all. but belizabeth is different somehow. and citrina can’t seem to fully understand why.

“i do,” she says slowly, leaning back to let her go from her hug. “that being said, lady brassica, it feels different coming from you.”

“oh?” belizabeth’s brow rises. “and why is that, princess?”

citrina flushes. “may i be so bold as to ask how many people you’ve given saint’s day presents to this year, my lady?”

it was belizabeth’s turn to blush, eyes widening as she made an immediate attempt to break eye contact with the princess. and citrina couldn’t help but giggle.

“this information has no such correlation, your highness.”

citrina smiles. “oh, really?”

“really.” belizabeth nods, but citrina notices her small smile, her cheeks flushed in the sunlight, her fingers curling around her dress as an act of nervousness, and she can’t help but think otherwise.

“well, nevertheless, thank you.”

and belizabeth smiles a little wider this time. citrina knows for sure that nobody can miss it.

she clears her throat, looking away once more as citrina grins back. “won’t you open it, your highness?”

citrina eagerly tears open the wrapping, lifting the lid of the box. inside sits a small, bright green clover charm, with gold weaved into its crevices, lining the charm’s borders. it hangs on a thin string, and it’s a simple present that does not seem to have any monetary value whatsoever. and citrina feels overwhelmingly happy holding it in her hands.

“i, uh, don’t really believe in luck, princess citrina,” belizabeth starts, clearing her throat, “and i believe that most things happen for a reason. things do not occur at a spur of the moment in my head, and i’ve always stood by that.”

citrina looks up, her head tilted slightly. “but?”

belizabeth’s brow raises. “and how would you know there was a but, your highness?”

“you wouldn’t start off a dramatic speech with an anecdote if you didn’t have something more to say, belizabeth.” citrina teases, smiling softly. belizabeth couldn’t help but smile back, nodding slightly.

“my beliefs … they’re set in stone. immovable. i grew up in a world where that was what i should believe in order to keep my faith strong. and, your highness, there is nothing i love more in this world than the beliefs i’ve dedicated my life to.”

“but.”

belizabeth scowls, trying to hide her grin. “ … but. when the world is so set in stone for me, when i’ve paused fully on exploring, on learning new things, it gets dull. it’s the same grey colour surrounding me on all corners of the world. and i did not want to give you something so … lacking. for you are the brightest colour in this world, princess. and i couldn’t help but remember the times we spent by the meadows, and how your face would always light up at the clover fields.”

citrina’s breath hitches, feeling her heart leap out of her chest for reasons unbeknownst to herself. “ … oh.”

“so,” belizabeth continues, “as i said, i do not believe in luck. i do not believe in the beauty of impulsivity. so i am offering you these … these things i do not believe in. because the dull, lackluster grey of my own world has not touched them yet. and so they belong to you.”

they watch each other for a moment, and another, and another. and there’s something so overwhelmingly addictive in the way that citrina’s pulse rose, and how her head spun after belizabeth’s words, and she kept wanting more, more, more of it.

“i shall cherish this forever, lady brassica,” citrina whispers, for she feared what would’ve happened if she spoke a tone above.

belizabeth smiles, brushing a stray lock of hair away from citrina’s face. citrina feels her own cheeks flush once more, having lost count of the amount of times this vegetanian has flustered her. “and that is all i ask of you.”

  
  


**part iii.** **_in bloom._ **

_04 celebrations_

the party was an amalgamation of bumping shoulders with the strange sphere of people that are involved in both politics and religion (although most _are_ already, but some have specialties whereas these people tend to mix their interests), receiving presents from all around calorum that would take hours to open, and one private family dinner that citrina had actually enjoyed but was unable to revel in for she had to return to the ballroom filled with people who hold power in their hands so easily. the bulb had begun to set, and citrina found herself once again weaving her way around people to find some fresh air, making a break for one of the ajar windows whose balcony seems to be unoccupied. every time one of her siblings had celebrated their saints day, it had been easy for citrina to handle the large crowds. yet, when it comes to her own, it’s nearly suffocating.

a bitter thought arises. _and yet, i wasn’t able to talk even more to the one person i’d been hoping to see._

she pushes this feeling down, guilt rising at her throat as she starts to pick apart how ungrateful she’s acting. belizabeth must have been busy. it’s an evening of celebration for the princess, sure, but every royal knows that to many, it goes beyond that. events like these where handfuls of people from all around the country come visit to celebrate the saints day of a member of the royal family tend to become an excuse to mingle with one another in hopes that these small bonds they form during the night are enough to be able to convince whole nations of allyship in times of difficulty. and yet, she still wishes that she had more than one moment with the one she’s been expecting.

“you seem to favour the outdoors, princess citrina.”

citrina turns, alarmed yet not surprised, for she recognizes that voice anywhere. “belizabeth. how did you find me?”

belizabeth only smiles. “you have this tendency to leave gatherings in favour of fresh air, your highness. i’ve noticed that a lot about you.”

“have you?” citrina laughs, a tad bit awkward, her mind still hazy from the moment they shared earlier today. she fiddles with the charm in her hand, and it burns her palm in such an intoxicating way. “well, i’m glad you’re here.”

“is that so?” belizabeth muses, walking over towards the edge of the balcony. “you don’t seem to be too happy at your own party.”

citrina winces. “is that bad?”

“no!” belizabeth says almost immediately, then shrinks, blushing. “no, of course not. i just - i thought … maybe …”

citrina raises a brow. “is there something you wish to say, lady brassica?”

“do you want to get out of here?” belizabeth breathes out, and it was at that exact moment citrina could tell how close they suddenly were, because she could feel belizabeth’s breath on her cheek and the warmth on her skin is overwhelming in the best way.

citrina watches her, watches the way she smiles so carefully, as though treading dangerous waters. and she’s never felt more inclined to let her know that she isn’t a danger whatsoever. “where do you want to go?”

_(‘with you? anywhere.’ belizabeth almost says, but it’s far too much and too real, and she can’t tell if she’s telling the truth when she whispers it so quietly in her head.)_

“wherever you want, your highness.”

_05 nightfall_

“the gardens have an entrance to your room?” belizabeth hummed, a crease of worry in her forehead. “isn’t that quite dangerous, princess?”

citrina laughed, holding a bottle of liquor that sapphria had grabbed sneakily from the kitchen. citrina will never understand how she manages to guess every move she makes, but she can’t help but be slightly thankful, too. she nodded at the guard standing by her door, smiling ever so sweetly when he stared back at her with a confused gaze as his eyes flitted back towards her and to the party. citrina held up a finger, and the guard’s mouth opened slightly in understanding, nodding along as he stands by, staring ahead as though he doesn’t see her entering her room. belizabeth followed, still watching citrina with that look of worry in her eyes.

“candia is by far the safest place on calorum, lady brassica,” citrina said with easy confidence. “i trust my people.”

_(belizabeth stops herself from blurting out, ‘how do you trust so easily?’)_

“and the people trust you.” belizabeth smiled from behind citrina. she wasn’t able to catch her expression, the way that belizabeth’s eyes darkened ever so slightly.

“i’m glad they do,” citrina whispered back, kindly ushering her handmaidens back to their rooms. for, well, privacy.

there’s a few moments of silence, this awkward tension hanging in the air. belizabeth looked around the room, subconsciously smiling at the different portraits of citrina hung around the walls. she had never been inside citrina’s bedroom, for most times they spent together had been either in the outdoors or in brightgarden churches. this was an interesting change of scenery.

her eyes fell upon a portrait of citrina at fourteen. she held her hair naturally, loosely blonde curls adorning her features. she was smiling bright, violet eyes aglow, with her hands placed neatly on her lap. there was something sparkling in her palms, and whether or not that was an artistic choice on the painter’s part, belizabeth could easily remember the day they met and how the light that citrina harnessed was simply natural. she couldn’t stop herself from grinning even if she tried, and it _hurt,_ because she was not supposed to act so naturally in love with the girl.

“some wine?” citrina’s voice broke belizabeth out of the trance she was in, and she barely nodded, eyeing her so carefully. it had been so easy to just kiss her and start an affair, influence things from the inside, but she was holding back, as if she had wanted citrina to ask _her_. maybe then it would be easier. maybe then she wouldn’t have to blame so much of it on herself, since she was only abiding by what citrina had asked of her. and who was she to deny a princess?

the two drank from the bottle, having forgone the need for wine glasses. they sat on the bed and told stories of one another, filling in gaps for when they weren’t present. they laughed together, and their voices were too harmonious together for there to be _nothing_ between them. it was too much, and not enough all at once. it was only until later in the night, when they’ve drank more than half of the bottle, that they exchanged a dance together in the privacy of citrina’s bedroom.

the look in citrina’s eyes was dazed, as though there was a fog in her gaze. belizabeth can’t help but smile down at her, watching each feature on her face with the most delicate expression she’s ever had in her lifetime. there was no music, but belizabeth could almost hear the sounds of the ocean mixed with the hummingbird songs that she had listened to during her time at the gardens when she had been waiting for citrina to arrive.

citrina looked up, the wine’s effects hitting her hard. she stumbles forward into belizabeth’s arms, and if belizabeth didn’t know her well enough, she’d think that was accidental.

the two locked eyes. the breath in belizabeth’s throat did not dare to escape her lips, for the moment was too perfect and pristine to bother. citrina smiled, and belizabeth felt her own smile fall, leaving a mouth opened partly as she stared at citrina, never being this close to her.

her violet eyes shone with a type of light that rivals the bulb, as though the very essence of the bulb found a haven in her expression. her lips, lively, soft, curled into a soft grin that all the maidens in the land could only ever hope to imitate. her hair was braided tonight, with gold weaved into her locks as though she was a child of the sky. it framed her face delicately, and belizabeth found herself pushing it behind her ear, feeling the warmth of citrina’s skin on the back of her hand as she rested it on her cheek.

“kiss me.”

the words left citrina’s lips only a moment ago, and belizabeth eagerly took her face and pressed her mouth against hers, swallowing the last sound of the last word before it could escape. citrina’s lips felt like fire against her own, as though heat and ice crashed against one another and created steam that hissed at the two, with snarls similar to how the priests of belizabeth’s hometown say about the hungry one’s voice.

but right now, belizabeth could not care less about the bulb, or the hungry one, or the deities that fall either in between or far beyond. she could not care less about her father’s instructions. when citrina placed her hands on her waist, and her teeth pulled against belizabeth’s bottom lip gently, teasingly, she can’t help but think blasphemy of the world she lives in, for it had taken her so long to experience something as the healer princess of candia.

* * *

when citrina wakes up, it’s to rays of the bulb seeping in through the stained glass window, with warm sheets sprawled over her. the feeling of her nightgown alongside the silk sheets makes her smile despite closed eyes and a killer headache, and she snuggles closer to the body beside her.

wait.

_oh._

citrina shoots out of bed, feeling a wave of panic flow through her chest. the movement stirs the body beside her, and she spots familiar green skin, images of last night flowing through her mind. she hardly remembers anything, which is what scares her the most.

the princess of candia lets out a shaky breath, slipping out of the bed and tiptoeing towards … well. somewhere. anywhere but here.

a creak from the wooden floor escapes, and citrina grimaces, hearing shuffling from behind her.

“princess?”

citrina straightens, tension seeping through her arms. “ahem. hello, lady brassica.”

she hears more shuffling and feels belizabeth beside her, placing a hand on her shoulder. _she’s still in last night’s clothes_ , citrina thinks, confused. “is something wrong?”

“well,” citrina hesitates, “um. well. you. we.”

she turns, and stares at belizabeth’s raised brow. “we?”

citrina gestures to themselves and to the bed, voice rising in pitch slightly. “we! you know!”

“we …” belizabeth follows the motion of her arms, and her eyes land on the bed, pausing for a moment. then, she flushes a deep shade of green, eyes widening. “oh, no! your highness, no we did not.”

“why didn’t you stop - wait.”

citrina blinked.

“we didn’t?”

belizabeth laughs despite her blush, smiling gently at the princess. “no, princess. you threw up from the amount of liquor you had and i had to change your clothes since you didn’t want to do it, and when i brought you to the bed you had asked me to stay. so i did.”

oh.

_oh._

“you … stayed.” citrina breathed out, a blush of her own creeping into her cheeks. memories of last night come flooding back.

_the two broke apart from the kiss, breathing heavily as they leaned against the other’s forehead, citrina’s shaky hands clutching onto belizabeth’s waist as though she was the only anchor in the ocean._

_“wow,” belizabeth breathed out._

_despite the haze that surrounds citrina’s mind, she can’t help but laugh at belizabeth’s expression, with her wide eyes and slightly parted lips._

_“wow?” citrina grinned, a teasing lilt to her voice as she felt herself melt against belizabeth’s touch. “is that all you have to say?”_

_this time, it was belizabeth who smiled, a challenging quirk to her lips that made citrina’s cheeks flush. “is there more that you had expected me to say? your highness?”_

_and citrina melted even more, feeling hot to the touch as belizabeth’s breath danced across her face, moving to a melody that citrina can somehow picture so clearly. “did i do good?”_

_belizabeth laughed, really laughed this time. it’s a rare occasion for citrina, and she can’t help but look so unapologetically enamoured with the way her eyes shine, with the way her shoulders shake, with the way she smiles so wide as she laughed. “your highness, you kiss very well. is that what you wanted to hear?”_

_citrina sighed, gently, happily, snuggling close to her. “yes.”_

_and belizabeth was there. belizabeth was there when she yawned sleepily, nuzzling her head close to the crook of her neck. belizabeth was there when her stomach churned from the alcohol. belizabeth was there when she was heaving atop the bathroom sink. and belizabeth was there when she passed out against the wall, exhaustion draping over her like a weighted blanket that nobody but sleep can lift._

“was i not supposed to?” belizabeth asked, a nervous expression on her face. citrina shook her head.

“no, no, it’s okay. i just … didn’t expect you to, is all.”

belizabeth frowned. “why not?”

_why not?_ citrina’s own voice echoed back the statement in her head, and citrina had to stop and think for a moment. _why not?_

“because …”

_because i think i am a little bit in love with you. because when you’re here it’s too much and i’m partially thankful for those moments where you leave so i can take a breath and center myself again. because this is becoming real and i don’t know if we are able to handle it. because we live in worlds that are far too different, and my home isn’t a place that yours loves. because of everything._

“ … i thought you’d be busy in the morning. so you would’ve had to leave early.”

belizabeth’s frown deepened for a moment, leaning closer (citrina tries to tell herself it was a subconscious choice). “even if i did, your highness, i’d still stay.”

citrina breathed. “oh.”

“oh?” belizabeth echoed.

citrina blinked once, twice. “you’d stay?”

“i would.”

and she did. for years, she did. for years, they spent their time learning their respective places in the world, with moments that they catch together, quiet ones, sometimes in the loneliness of the confessional booths together as they commit blasphemy within the walls, sometimes in belizabeth’s office where nobody could see them. but it was far too spontaneous, far too risky for them to keep going. and good things such as love, or things disguised as love, don’t last too long when power is far too involved between them all.

  
  


**part iv.** **_plucked._ **

_06 oh, hello, past lover, what had happened to you?_

**(three years later)**

the door to belizabeth’s bedchambers had been shut neatly, and the windows adorning the deep maroon walls were sealed so as to not let the chilling evening wind in.

so when citrina found herself in the arms of her lover, deep beneath the warm blankets of belizabeth’s bed, it felt strange that her body was numb from the cold.

it was the night before her last day at brightgarden before she had to return to candia to help her family during a crisis. she’s spent two weeks staying in belizabeth’s estate, and although she’s finished her training to be a part of the bulbian church years ago, citrina often visits vegetania both for political purposes as well as visiting her dear lover. there have been no official statements out yet, and it wasn’t as if they had put a label to their relationship, but somehow people knew of their bond with one another, and nobody bothered to question it.

for three years, ever since their first kiss, they had spent so much time together in brightgarden. but in the past few months, there’s been a shift. a change in the way belizabeth carries herself, as though there was always something in her mind, lurking beneath no matter how deep it may be. she never bothered to share whatever it was that was plaguing her thoughts, but citrina can’t help but think ill of the way she’s been acting. their public exchanges had gotten even more short and stiff, and belizabeth always chided her for speaking to the lowborns of the city, as though she wasn’t allowed to intermingle with the people of brightgarden that did not wear fabrics as neatly weaved as hers. as though she was forced to act like a typical royal. belizabeth spoke to her as though she was a doll that needed to be kept pristine.

“citrina.”

gone was belizabeth’s gentle, calming voice that spoke sweet nothings into citrina’s ear. gone was the title that she used so teasingly. gone was the carefree nature of their relationship, the feeling of reveling in their shared escapism from the world they live in to find themselves in each other’s arms. belizabeth still holds her, cradles her gently in bed, but her skin is cold and she finds her muscles tensing at the feeling of belizabeth’s breaths against her neck, as though she was no longer held in a way that made her feel loved.

she felt worshipped. and it made citrina’s stomach churn.

nevertheless, belizabeth expected an answer. “mmm?”

“you know,” she sighed, and there’s a pause that lasted a beat too long, for citrina has memorized every different breath and sigh and pause that belizabeth could offer, and this pause was new, a different rhythm, one she has not familiarized herself with. and it worried her.

“i envy you.”

citrina gulped. because it wasn’t the words that she had expected belizabeth to say. yet somehow it was, and she cannot understand why the universe is so adamant on making every thought she’s had on this girl a continuous paradox.

“please, don’t.”

belizabeth looked down on her, and her grip on citrina’s shoulder tightened ever so slightly. to any other person, they wouldn’t have noticed. but citrina did, and she can’t tell if it’s because she knows belizabeth down to the very nerves that lie beneath her muscles, or if it’s because she herself is on high alert. “don’t? why, dearest, everyone should envy you. the sweet princess of candia, the bulb’s chosen. why, your path to canonization is basically set in stone at this point.”

belizabeth’s words were sharp, almost bitter, but citrina couldn’t admit that to herself right now. instead, she laughed weakly, breathily. “all i’d have to do is die.”

she felt her eyes on her, and citrina hated the way her gaze burned her skin. “ … yes. that’s all you’d have to do.”

_08 reluctantly, farewell_

“you do not have to leave, belizabeth.”

citrina couldn’t help but place her hand on top of hers. they had promised to keep it professional when in belizabeth’s homeland, yet it was so simple and so instinctual to rest her hand ever so gently atop her lover’s, and the curtains were shielding the outside world from view, so it had to be okay.

but it wasn’t, and belizabeth retracted her hand so fast it was as if citrina’s touch burned her. “leave? i’d just be staying here, your highness. officially.”

“i meant leave _me_ ,” and citrina’s voice was so broken, so ragged, so pained.

belizabeth only stared back at her with a cold glare. “oh? then why don’t you ever listen to anything i say?”

“the poor child was _hungry_! am i not allowed to spend my money on those who need it?” citrina nearly screamed, exhausted, for this is the fourth fight of a similar vein this month, and it was citrina’s final day before she had to return to candia.

belizabeth looked at her as though citrina mocked the very sigil that she wore. as though she spat on her shoes. “i am only telling you to do what’s best for your image, princess citrina. what makes you think you have the right to speak to those lowborns? not only are you the image of _candia,_ but you are also one of the many faces of the bulbian church. you do _not_ allow a speck of dirt onto your hand.”

“horrible,” citrina whispered, shaking her head frantically as she watched the person she thought she had loved the most fizzle into nothing more than a power-driven figurehead. “you are _horrible_ for saying that, belizabeth. this is not what the bulb would have wanted.”

belizabeth glared. “the bulb is a gods damned light in the sky, citrina! and you are so, so far gone if you think it is anything more than that.”

citrina felt as though she had been slapped in the face. she’s heard far too many people both in the streets and within the clergy echo that exact sentiment, yet her heart still believed so strongly in this idea that the bulb was inherently kind, no matter how sentient it was. and to have the person she loved rip that concept apart was almost akin to a dagger in her stomach.

“now,” belizabeth began, leaning back in an attempt to cool herself down. “the church, _our_ church, on the other hand, holds real power, princess. and if one of the faces of our church is seen meddling amongst thieves and lowlives and orphans, then we’ll be seen as a laughingstock. do you understand, dearest?”

“don’t call me that,” citrina bit back, eyes staring down at the floor as she barely manages to hold herself up with her arms on the table.

belizabeth sighed. “citrina, please. stop acting like a child.”

“i’m not a _child,_ belizabeth!” citrina shouted angrily, looking up at her. “i am a princess. and i expect you to address me as such.”

“then _act_ like one, citrina!” belizabeth hissed back, gripping onto the headrest of her chair.

citrina’s mouth tasted like copper. she stared at belizabeth with eyes glassy with tears, and when she saw the way belizabeth’s glare never wavered, she sighed.

“if you think of me as such,” citrina frowned, “then don’t stop me when i walk away.”

“citrina.”

she turned around, a heavy feeling settling in her chest as she stepped forward.

“citrina, don’t you dare.”

citrina’s skin burned as she tightened her grip on the clover charm. what had hurt the most was the way that it felt freeing, leaving belizabeth behind, for she had turned into a stranger that citrina couldn’t even try to want to get to know.

she could hear belizabeth’s voice calling her name once more, but the tone was so angry, cold, and she could hardly recognize it at all.

_09 unfortunately familiar_

**(seven years later)**

citrina stepped into the archbishop’s office hesitantly, eyeing the back of belizabeth’s chair. it’s been far too long since they’ve been alone in a room ever since they had said goodbye, and citrina did not have the time to think deeply about what this may be for. the war hadn’t gotten any better, and being away from her homeland, when she could be tending to the wounds of candian soldiers, brings a sick feeling to her stomach. “archbishop.”

a moment of silence falls upon the two, with tension so thick citrina struggles to move forward and face belizabeth as though she walks in molasses. a sigh, and a breath, and citrina curses herself for being able to differentiate the two, curses herself for knowing every part of belizabeth so well. her back is turned, with only the spine of her chair facing citrina, yet she can see the furrowed eyebrows knitted together with uncertainty, the downward curl of her lip that tears a piece of citrina’s soul away every time she sees it, a lock of hair falling from her neat updo and framing her face that happens every time she loses herself in her work. she can see the hollow cheeks, the bags under her eyes, the scratches on her neck. she can see everything.

but belizabeth doesn’t say much. she merely lets out another breath (a breath, this time, not a sigh, and citrina wonders why it was so) and says, “your highness. come in.”

the way belizabeth addresses her sends an empty void to form deep in the pit of her stomach, making her wince physically as she walked forward with careful strides, shutting the door behind her. “you wanted to see me.”

“that i did.” belizabeth still does not turn, still does not face citrina head on. this time, it was a sigh.

they pause, and not a word is uttered out loud, yet so many questions spew from either end of the room, as though their mere presence was enough to send words strung together both with and without care to each other’s universes. and not a single reply comes back.

after a few moments of citrina standing idly and belizabeth gripping onto the arms of her seat, she finally turns around.

citrina was right, what with the hollow cheeks and deep eyebags, cracked lips curled into a snarl. but why she looked at her with so much malice in her eyes, citrina couldn’t tell.

“you.” belizabeth nearly growls, deep and guttural. “you ruined me.”

belizabeth stands up, and citrina took a step back on instinct, hand clutching onto the small clover charm that belizabeth had given her so long ago. it had once felt warm, years and years ago, when belizabeth’s eyes did not stare at her with anger. but now it was just cold. cold and _dead._ citrina wonders to herself for a flitting moment as to why she had always kept it, but her thought was cut short as belizabeth takes a step forward, and immediately citrina shut the door. there was something inside of her that told her to keep this between themselves, and citrina chides herself again for trying to protect someone that she has lost so, so long ago.

“it’s been years, archbishop,” citrina starts, her voice wavering yet still strong, “since i’ve said my goodbye to you. i can’t even begin to imagine what i could have possibly done to you in my absence.”

“and yet absence makes the heart grow _fonder_.” belizabeth nearly spits the last word at citrina. her words are so overwhelmingly contradictory, yet her eyes burn with an anger that’s yet to be wavered.

citrina purses her lips. the last time she’d seen belizabeth was when everything had started to scream danger. she hadn’t wanted to leave her behind, _truly,_ yet she had promised herself to nobody but the church and belizabeth’s words were beginning to scare her. and her life without belizabeth had been safe. safer than before, when she had lost too much of herself indulging in belizabeth and all that she had given her. “not for all of us.”

belizabeth glares at her, and somehow her eyes burn even brighter as the words settle deeply into her skin. “you … i will _kill_ you.”

something glows in belizabeth’s hands, and citrina’s mouth dries as she realizes that this isn’t a threat. it’s a promise.

“archbishop --”

“ _don’t try to act all high and mighty in front of me, princess.”_ belizabeth leaned forward, menacingly watching her in the same way a snake eyes its next meal. “all those years of being far away from you had done nothing but made me realize how much of an idiot you have to be, trying to pretend as though you’re some holier-than-thou healer of the bulb when you live alongside witches and those who belittle and disrespect the bulb. you think you can live like a saint, citrina, when your life has been nothing but a lie.”

and it clicked. memories that citrina has pushed far back in her mind, moments that hadn’t fit the narrative at the time, this instinctive feeling of danger that settled in the pit of citrina’s stomach long ago that had begun to stir the moment she found herself in front of the archbishop brassica once more.

it was _never_ love. no matter how it had begun, no matter how innocent their first meeting was, no matter how far deep they had fallen into the hole that they dug together, it was never, never love to begin with. their first meeting had been nothing but coincidence. the moments they had shared together was nothing more than an attempt to form these connections, these relationships that allow for a break in the reality that had been so suffocating (citrina) or a chance to have a closer glance at the others’ world (belizabeth). and it was quite unfortunate that at some point, amidst all the banter and the few moments they shared, they had tricked themselves into thinking it was love, for the most painful type of heartbreak is discovering the disingenuity beneath the veil that shifted the image to project something akin to sincerity.

in a world where power is the most sought after, there can never be moments of pure innocence, intentions that are nothing but good and kind. and she now knows that belizabeth had always been aware of this. from the moment they had first met. and yet, citrina lived her life as though kindness was the driving force. which is why belizabeth had lost herself in citrina, why she felt this unspoken attraction towards her, why her attention was almost always given at the drop of a hat. it was never love. it was obsession.

citrina felt herself breathe deeply. the epiphany had hurt, of course, but beyond that it had brought this feeling of relief that settled deeply in her bones, as though the discovery had healed her in some way. she looked up, eyes burning bright like belizabeth’s, but citrina’s fire was something along the lines of the sunlight that surrounds the world with its warmth and belizabeth was a thunderstorm that knew only the language of destruction. and despite all of the things she had come to understand, she still feels the same hope that the goodness of the warmth of the light will not waver against the cold reality of the storm. the same hope that had consumed belizabeth’s own heart and morphed what could have been a wonderful feeling into a mental plague.

“if you choose to speak ill of my family and the land i care so deeply about one more time, archbishop brassica,” citrina began, eyes level and calm, “then i have no choice but to walk away from this conversation.”

“a master of being kind, princess citrina,” belizabeth bites back, “has nothing but words that can do no such harm.”

“archbishop, you should know more than anyone that i have never and _will_ never wish pain onto others with words.”

they both paused. and belizabeth looked up one more time, this time weaker, more vulnerable. “i loved you.”

citrina couldn’t help but feel a pang of _something_ strike her chest. “no, archbishop, you didn’t.”

“and yet you still walk around the lands of calorum loving those who treat the deity you love with little to no respect?”

citrina’s brows raise, and an anger that she has never felt before stirs in her. “you don’t know my family.”

“i don’t,” belizabeth agrees, “and yet i know _of_ them enough. and how far will you go, citrina, for a family that disgraces the name of the One who shines before us?”

a moment of silence. a breath (not a sigh). and citrina turns around, her hand on the doorknob, with a grim expression on her face. “archbishop brassica, if our conversation is nothing more than me being an eyewitness to your temper tantrum, i’ll be taking my leave.”

she twists the knob, realizing that belizabeth is not trying to stop her.

“and don’t you ever --” citrina huffs, nearly alight with rage, “-- _ever_ speak of my family in that manner ever again.”

_10 fall from grace_

“so you _have_ gone mad, and ciabatta _wasn’t_ lying to me.”

belizabeth’s eyes shot up from the ground, meeting the careful, calculated stare of one calroy cruller as she looks back at him with a deranged look in her gaze. “what do you want, cruller?”

he raises a brow. “am i not allowed to see my colleague? my good co-worker?”

“you’re pathetic.” she just spits back, but her words barely graze the lord’s skin. her mind is elsewhere, thinking back to the day before.

_“i loved you.”_

_and the words felt wrong to say because belizabeth didn’t, but somehow it was still a desperate plea, a cry for help, as though maybe these words would give her another chance to take citrina back and keep her away from everything around them. the world is evil, evil, evil. and yet, citrina doesn’t see that. belizabeth was left no choice but to force her to see._

_but citrina does not run back to her like she expected. she only watches her, a disappointed gaze that burns straight into belizbeth’s skull. “no, archbishop, you didn’t.”_

calroy walks over to her, uncharacteristically worried. it’s almost upsetting to see that there’s still some form of humanity in the man who so maliciously helped her plan the downfall of candia. “archbishop brassica, did something happen?”

“oh, cruller,” belizabeth laughs bitterly. “unless we kill the princess tomorrow, we’re doomed.”

calroy pauses, his lips settling into a thin line. “and why is that?”

“because she knows,” she says solemnly.

a breath. “she knows?”

belizabeth nods. and there’s nearly ten full seconds of silence before she hears the crash of a pot against the wall, and when she looks up, she sees calroy hunched over, panting heavily as a lone candy cane stem lies amidst dirt and shards of ceramic. calroy turns back to her, brows knitted together angrily. “ _she knows?_ ”

“haven’t i said so already -”

“ _enough!_ ” calroy’s voice booms in the walls of the office, and belizabeth is so shocked she falls silent. “i am not letting your pathetic obsession with the princess get in the way of all of this. you are _going_ to find a way to end her before she can come in contact with the royal family. you are _going_ to kill her, lady brassica.”

belizabeth stands, approaching him with a look of anger in her eyes. “you do _not_ have the authority to tell me what to do.”

“i do, archbishop brassica,” he spits back. “or are you too scared to kill her? must i do all the work myself?”

“i am _not afraid!_ ” belizabeth screams, clutching her stomach at the pain that the thought brings. she _will_ kill the princess, even if it burns her.

“is that so?” calroy huffs, crossing his arms.

belizabeth can only look back at him. “yes.” but her voice is shaky and angry and her body is on fire with guilt and fear and this need to _protect_ citrina, because _she’s_ the only one who knows what’s good for her.

calroy sneers, staring into belizabeth’s eyes. the two fought a game of psychological warfare that nobody but them could understand, but now calroy has the fiery eyes of a madman whose anger is the only thing driving him to continue.

“and what will you do, archbishop,” he snarls, circling her like a predator does to its prey, “when you arrive at her funeral, with a small vial of fake tears and a black handkerchief, twisting a parasol despite the fact that no rain seems to be falling? will you cry into her family’s shoulder, feeding at their loss? will you shake as you drop a caramel rose onto her casket?”

he moves closer to her, a menacing stance that could’ve almost scared belizabeth. “or will you crumble, knowing that you killed your beloved?”

silence.

a crack.

calroy holds a gloved hand to his cheek, eyeing the ground with a look of shock and fear swirling in his eyes.

“you forget your place, _lowborn_ ,” belizabeth hisses, her whole body lit aflame. “you and your boy-toy prince will never be anything like how i know the princess.”

and belizabeth walks away, holding her hand tightly to stop it from shaking, feeling a sick satisfaction from hearing the heavy, broken breathing coming from the presence behind her.

she _will_ kill princess citrina of house rocks. and she will do it before anybody can stop her.

  
  


**part v.** **_withered._ **

_11 stairway to heaven_

when citrina arrives at candia, days after her travel from brightgarden, it is to burning trees and civilians screaming at the top of their lungs and her carriage being broken down by enemy weapons imbued with an evil type of magic. it is to an arrow through her driver’s neck and blood splattered across her face as she is immediately escorted out of the carriage and through a passageway with a handful of guards. it is to death and destruction and all of the things she had hoped she’d be able to avoid.

her throat closed up as she coughed from the smoke coming from the burning leaves. her eyes, frantic and teary, search for any sign of the castle beyond the haze and smoke. the fabrics of her dress feel heavy against her skin as she stumbles forward towards the pathway her guards are making for her, and it hurts seeing the blood on their skin as they protect her from oncoming enemies surrounding her, it _hurts_ knowing that she can’t stop and place her hands on their wounds because she has to keep going, she can’t just stop in the middle of the trail. and so she does. she runs, stumbles, leaving her shoes and her belongings behind as she rushes forward in an attempt to _come home._

everywhere around her, screams echo off the tall buildings. citrina gave herself the moment to think. _we are under attack. this was a surprise attack. our soldiers are falling behind. i need to go to my family._

sweet smelling soot. charred edges of the trails, burning. citrina couldn’t stop running, even when the hot chocolate burned her feet and the ash in the hair stung her eyes with hot and heavy tears. her breath was short and erratic, and she felt herself lose grip with reality as her mind numbed and her legs kept going. the last words of last night burned in her memory.

_“and how far will you go, citrina, for a family that disgraces the name of the One who shines before us?”_

the words leave a sick, sick feeling in her stomach, and at that moment, she feels a surge of adrenaline rush through her veins as she pictures the archbishop she had once loved in front of her.

“i will do everything,” she bites back, her voice hoarse from the running. her vision blurs even further as tears fall down her face, and she pushes forward despite the screaming of her people echoing in her mind. she feels worthless to be in the streets surrounded by so many people who need her, yet she can’t seem to do anything but run. a coward. a _child._

then, she remembers belizabeth again. that same rush of adrenaline empowers her once more, and when she glances down at her skin she’s aglow with the same light that the bulb shines down on the people, and at that moment she knows that maybe her hope that it was something more than just a source of light glows bright, aflame. she can keep going.

an arrow. a second. a third. three more fire in succession. and she hears the choked cry of one of her soldiers, six bodies falling to the ground, and she doesn’t have to look around her to realize she’s alone.

“she’s there! go, go!”

“kill the princess!”

“for bulbia!”

the fire beneath her skin burns, and she almost faints from having used so much energy, but she can’t give up now. she can’t allow herself to die before she was even able to say goodbye to her family.

_“laz!”_ she screams, looking up at the sky from beyond the fog and finding her sister’s figure atop the castle walls, her skin burning even more. she clutches dearly onto the clover charm no matter how sick and vile the things it reminds her are, and when she watches lazuli rocks hover in the air, with her hands held high, she had a sinking feeling that it was her time to go.

as a new wave of enemy soldiers approach, lazuli raised her arms higher, summoning a downpour of arrows imbued with the most potent arcana citrina’s ever witnessed in her life. she ducked beneath a roof to shield herself, yet as she reached out she had experienced no pain with the contact of the arrows. even in her final moments, lazuli had still managed to protect them all.

the arrows ceased, and when citrina looked up again, she sees her older sister’s limp and lifeless body riddled with arrows falling to the ground. lazuli had sacrificed herself to protect everyone else.

at that moment, citrina screamed.

she let out a deep, guttural yell, screaming something akin to lazuli’s name, running forward towards her falling body as it quickly approached the ground. if she hadn’t died already, the impact would surely kill her. citrina had to get there. she _had_ to.

there was no silence. there was still the fire and the soot and the bodies littering the ground. but citrina could not hear a single thing. the world spun, a sickly crunch heard, and she screamed once again, but this time, out of pure and utter pain. the last thing she saw was lazuli’s head twisting sharply to the side as her body fell neck-first onto the ground.

a javelin, embedded with the insignia of the bulbian church, impaled her chest.

* * *

_12 requiem._

it felt fitting to be holding onto saint citrina’s book as belizabeth watched the siege of castle candy happening.

when the arrows pierced her chest, it almost did not sting. it almost was numb, bittersweet. the air around her smelled of lemon drops despite the battle that had been going on.

she falls. she falls for a long, long time. and when she gets closer to the ground, she realizes she’s falling onto a clover field.

it embraced her the same way death does. and she sank deeply into the earth.

**Author's Note:**

> it's very fitting that belizabeth dies alone i think. also she's a piece of shit and we have to remember that! but wow i truly did not expect to love writing this the way i did. as i've mentioned to a few people, writing sweet religion is hard because there's this part of you that wants to include the spiralling and the "love" but you really do have to balance it with the realities of their relationship because it is. Very toxic. like incredibly. and it was difficult! but i'm very proud about how this turned out. 
> 
> also! i am not at all familiar with how ao3 works i simply drop my gay little fics and run away :sob: but! my great friend and wonderful big bang partner chrome did some rad fucking art for this piece. i've seen the finished products and it is so so lovely, and now you guys can too! https://twitter.com/TransAndBored/status/1345041004752154626?s=20 is the link to the specific art piece that is connected to this fic but everyone should go check out chrome regardless, @TransAndBored on twitter! they do such wonderful art and they're genuinely one of the most talented people i know.
> 
> anyways! kudos and comments appreciated. i'd love to see what your guys' favourite parts were seeing as this was such a self-indulgent fic since sweet religion is such a niche ship that i only ever talk about with my friends :sob: love you all mwah!


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